He didn't earn the name Talk Radio
by digging on NPR,
he earned the name
for being a stupid ******
that never shuts up.

Talk wasted his physically
fit years chasing shallow ***,
and creating a seduction ritual,
requiring a lighthouse at
Lake Hefner.

Now he's grappling with his
late 20s, trying to retain what's
left of his hair,
trying to **** in his massive belly,
that resembles a pregnant lady,
more than a typical beer enthusiast.

Speaking of pregnant women,
he confessed a ****** obsession
centered around their tummy.
He asked if I felt the same,
I said,
"I guess they're cute,
but it is in no way a ******
thing. I don't want to
go to town on their
baby lump."

Spending my weekend with Talk,
made me thankful for my ability
to think rationally.